


the heat in my chest (isn’t a monster this time)

by qosm



Category: DCU (Comics), Green Lantern (Comics), The Flash (Comics)
Genre: M/M, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Supervillain AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 04:28:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17175908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qosm/pseuds/qosm
Summary: “Carol,” Hal said over breakfast, “It’s becoming a problem.”Carol gave him a look that told him everything, and then returned to scrambling her eggs.“So what you’re telling me, Hal, is that Parallax comes back from a six month vacation in the depths of space and suddenly he’s head-over-heels for this cute new speedy boy?”Hal rubbed at his eyes, nodding helplessly.“It’s not my fault! Nobody should look that good in bright red spandex.”





	the heat in my chest (isn’t a monster this time)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aydeen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aydeen/gifts).



> So this kind of got away from me.  
> For Dean, beta'd by the wonderful GreenSphynx.

“Carol,” Hal said over breakfast, “It’s becoming a problem.”

Carol gave him a look that told him everything, and then returned to scrambling her eggs.

“So what you’re telling me, Hal, is that Parallax comes back from a six month vacation in the depths of space and suddenly he’s head-over-heels for this cute new speedy boy?”

Hal rubbed at his eyes, nodding helplessly.

“It’s not my fault! Nobody should look that good in bright red spandex.”

She glanced over her shoulder at him, raising an eyebrow and flipping an egg over with a splash and sizzle of the pan.

“You do realise that you run around in a skin-tight construct with thigh-high metal boots, right?”

Hal scowled and rolled his eyes at that, waving his hand dismissively.

“Yeah, but it’s not to be, like, hot. It’s supposed to be intimidating. Which it is.”

Carol didn’t even dignify that with a look, merely with a snort of laughter. Hal felt vaguely disrespected.

“Do you even know anything about this ‘Flash’, or are you just thirsty from six months in space?”

There was an expectant pause where Hal opened his mouth to reply, but Carol interrupted him before he could get a word out.

“How long have you been stalking him for, Hal? You know you’re not allowed to do that!”

The Lantern sunk down to try and hide behind the counter, but he couldn’t escape her tone.

“Only a little while--”

“How long.”

“...Two weeks,” he admitted sheepishly, crossing his arms and drumming his fingers on his biceps distractedly. He knew it wasn’t really socially acceptable to covertly gather information about someone, but it also generally wasn’t socially acceptable to become a supervillain powered by a semi-magical alien ring with almost unlimited power.

Carol made a disapproving noise in the back of her throat and flipped the eggs onto a plate.

“Have you tried talking to him?”

Hal groaned and buried his head in his hands.

“You’re going to be the death of me, woman.”

 

* * *

 

And so Parallax found himself crouched atop a tall building, watching a fight play out on the streets below.

This ‘Flash’ hero moved at a speed he had trouble following, but not nearly as much trouble as his poor rogues. The Flash moved like a dancer, flitting between targets and weaving around with a skill he wouldn’t immediately attribute to a kid just starting out hero work.

Flash certainly wasn’t a kid, though, the broad slopes of his shoulders combined with the tapering waist and trim hips gave him a distinct appearance that conveyed strength and experience. The muscled legs were also… Mature. Good for running.

Probably good for more than that.

Parallax pushed those thoughts away as he observed the battle going on below: a simple bank robbery by these so-called ‘Rogues’, interrupted by the hero the newspapers had taken to calling ‘the scarlet speedster’. He was a big deal in Central, having openly operated for a bare few months before being claimed as a regional icon.

He had to admit to himself, the billboards proudly proclaiming ‘THE CITY THAT KEEPS RUNNING’ were kind of cute.

The Rogues? Less than cute, and that guy themed after a spinning top had possibly the most atrocious outfit Parallax had ever seen.

Wincing as the Flash roundhouse kicked Captain Boomerang at a speed slightly beyond human capability, Parallax had to admit that this man was beautiful to watch in action. With a slight tingling in the back of his head he summoned a construct of a scope over an eye, so he could zoom in and observe the details.

From that angle he could see the way the Flash’s lips had curled into a playful smile, a flash of teeth as he probably made a terrible pun towards Captain Cold, who scowled and aimed his freezegun.

Parallax watched as the Flash cocked a hip and disappeared in a blur of gold, weaving in and between the hail of icicles shot at him, more liquid than solid and not for the first time the Lantern wondered how the hero perceived the world: Could he see his own light, the refractions of glittering sunlight in the slowly-spinning icicles he was dancing around? Or was he more focused on the way his rogues were trapped in space, helpless?

Something in him curled in pleasure at the idea of what they could do together, if the Flash wasn’t the paragon of virtue and goodness. The man had rebuilt at least three orphanages after freak supervillain accidents, and was apparently disinterested in using and abusing his newfound fame.

Allowing himself to smile in something approaching admiration -- not that he’d ever admit it -- Parallax rested his chin on his knuckles and watched the Flash disarm Captain Cold in under half a second, flipping the gun around and freezing Cold’s feet into a block of ice with what was undoubtedly a peppy comment.

He never even saw the fireball being shot at him, courtesy of Heat Wave.

Parallax felt the entire universe shift around him as he moved on instinct, swinging his hand up and drawing on the raw _power_ that resided in him, curled up in his chest like some terrible serpent and drew it into physical form, a great wall of green-gold bricks materialising in thin air between the Flash and the oncoming ball of fire.

The explosion rocked the street and tore apart the concrete, sending chunks and Rogues flying alike. Parallax could taste the heat and sweat as he, without thinking, dropped from the top of the building and floated downwards, cape billowing and letting the wall construct disappear. His heart was in his lungs and adrenaline was hot in his veins, but it was alright as long as--

As long as the Flash kept looking at him with those too-blue eyes and mouth opened in a silent shout. The hero seemed to be locked in place, confusion and shock written across his features as plain as day. Up close and on the ground now, Parallax saw the way his cheeks were flushed and fingers curled nervously.

Was he embarrassed from being saved, or did he feel the adrenaline too, hopped up on the lightning surging around him?

He could also see the way the material of the Flash’s suit clung to the sharp lines of his hips, the cloying smell of sweat intermingling with the ozone, and Parallax felt something stir within him.

With a wayward gesture, green chains materialised around the downed Rogues, including the stunned Heat Wave and dragged them to the ground to immobilise them with pure light.

“You should be more careful,” Parallax heard himself saying, crossing his arms and very determinedly keeping his eyes from lingering where the tight red material of the Flash’s suit pulled tightly across his pectorals with each breath-- No, instead he focused on the way the other man seemed to want to push concealed hair -- blond, from what he could see of his eyebrows -- away but instead settled with rubbing the back of his neck.

“Thanks for covering me,” Flash said sheepishly, giving him a lopsided grin. His cheeks were turning ever-redder, so he guessed that earlier flush was from adrenaline.

Parallax inclined his head, curling his fingers to make the constructs around the Rogues tighter to prevent escape. And perhaps to show off a little.

“You should be more aware of your surroundings,” he chided, finding his belly warm with amusement at the way the other rolled his eyes.

The Flash scoffed lightly, eyeing where the green wall of light had been. “I perceive things faster than most people. I knew the fireball was coming. I was just surprised when you put that wall up.” He was obviously trying to sound casual, but Parallax could see how his eyes were flickering across his uniform, lingering around his shoulder plating, and then the metallic sheen of his boots.

Parallax held up his hands and spread his fingers, all the while keeping a portion of his focus on the Rogues, in what was hopefully a disarming gesture.  
  
“Hey now, no need for suspicion.” The Flash’s eyes widened at that, apparently surprised that Parallax had picked up on it. “I’m a Green Lantern, I help protect the galaxy.” It wasn’t a lie. It was just that he protected the galaxy from itself. The _thing_ curled in his chest, apparently happy with the deception.

Flash seemed content with that answer, bringing the smile back and relaxing, rolling back onto his heels.

“So being a Green Lantern means you can make those…?” He trailed off, gesturing to the immobilised Rogues. Captain Cold looked particularly miffed. Parallax shot him a toothy grin.

“Constructs. Formed and maintained by my willpower.”

He could see the way the Flash’s eyes sparked with curiosity, lips parting with what was undoubtedly half a dozen questions. He had such pretty eyes.

“I could see how that might be pretty handy for being a… Space cop? Right?” He was tapping his chin, fascination written across his face. “You’re going to be around for a little while, right? D’you think it might be okay if we teamed up now and again?”

He caught himself and laughed, bright and wonderful. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be presumptuous. I guess I can’t help but want to work with the guy that decided to save my life, huh?”

Parallax doubted that the fireball would have killed Flash, but that wasn’t why he saved him.

“It would be an honour to serve with the newest up-and-coming hero. You seem to have made a name for yourself,” he replied smoothly while ignoring the warmth in his belly at the idea that someone would want to work with _him_ ; feared subjugator of planets, ruthless in his possession over Earth.

“It’s a date then!” Flash chirped, his face lighting up with a grin. “D’you mind helping me round these guys up, though? They can be a bit… Belligerent.” The smile turned sheepish.

It was all Parallax can do not to simply scoop the speedster up into a construct and have his way with him, but instead he merely nodded, refocusing on the constructs keeping the Rogues pinned and secure.

“It’s a date then.”

* * *

 

“Carol,” Hal said over a bottle of whiskey, “It’s now officially a problem.”

Carol’s eyebrows lifted with an astonishing amount of unspoken sarcasm. It practically permeated through the little office they found themselves -- Carol’s office, actually. She had haphazardly stacked all of her paperwork and set it to the side to make room for their impromptu drinking party.

“I would say that I can’t believe this but this is _you_ we’re talking about here, so I can totally believe that you’re already head-over-heels for this goody two-shoes spandex-clad twink.”

Hal bristled.

“He’s a twunk, actually.”

Carol made a noise of despair in the back of her throat.

“Look, Hal.” She set down her wine and settled back in her chair. “I’ve got a psychotic embodiment of love living inside my head. I know a thing or two about love. And you’re in it. _Deep_. It’s kind of gross, but since I’m the one that got you to stop stalking the poor kid I guess I have to man up and guide you through it all.”

Hal looked at her skeptically over the rim of his glass.

“So, what, you’re gonna be my love-guru now?”

“That’s _precisely_ what I’m gonna be, Hal, so listen up…”

 

* * *

 

Hal checked his watch for what felt like the third time that minute, drumming his fingers nervously on the nice tablecloth.

It wasn’t like he didn’t know the Flash’s real name, that had come up relatively quickly only a few days into his stalking, but it didn’t feel right to even think of him in that way just yet: Flash hadn’t voluntarily given him his name; Hal hadn’t earned it.

The creature in his ribcaged undulated, feeding off his anxiety until he summoned the willpower to push it away from his mind.

The Flash didn’t know Hal’s name either, and when Hal had put in the reservation for the dinner he put it under the name ‘ _Highball_ ’.

 

_“A date?” the Flash had replied with a quizzical half-smile and a tilt of the head, as if he wasn’t sure what Parallax had just asked._

_The Lantern raised his hands disarmingly, laughing nervously. “No, no, just a… Dinner between two pals, without the masks and costumes?” It had been what Carol recommended, between strict instructions not to immediately start making crude jokes and not to screw it up by drinking himself into an alcoholic stupor beforehand._

_The Flash’s posture relaxed minutely, and his eyes seemed to twinkle._

_“Just a dinner? I’d be okay with that. But I don’t-- What reservation would we even put it under? A-Assuming it’s that kind of dinner, of course!”_

_Parallax smiled, and offered his callname._

_“Oooh, very Bond of you! It’s a not-date then! I’ll be looking for the dashing man in a suit and martini, right?”_

 

When a waiter passed by, he made a gesture to indicate that he wanted more wine, and felt a bead of sweat drop down the nape of his neck. Hal wasn’t a fearful man by nature, but he found himself… Attached to the man in red, with his bright eyes and broad smile and terrible puns.

Hal found himself smiling at the thought, but was brought out of his reverie by a familiar voice inquiring at the counter.

“I had a reservation with, um, the name ‘Highball’? I-I know I’m a bit late but--”

His heart immediately jumped to his throat and he tried not to look too excited as a server lead a familiar face over, and Hal suddenly felt underdressed.

While Hal wore a simple dress shirt and pants, the Flash was wearing a goddamned _bowtie_. Who the hell wore bowties in the twenty first century? This man, apparently.

The Lantern quickly rose to his feet to try and cover up how flustered he felt, and gestured for the other man to take a seat. He wasn’t entirely sure about same-sex date protocol because, honestly, the amount of times he’s actually tried to wine and dine a man he’s interested in can be counted on one hand, and does platonic dates with Tom count? Nevermind--

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” the Flash was saying as he sat down, back straight and short blond hair tousled, heat spreading across his cheeks. “Something came up at the lab and I had to run a few tests and next thing I knew it was half-past and I still needed to get into town so I…”

He gave Hal a playful look from beneath his eyelashes.

“...Had to run to get here, if you get what I’m saying.”

“That’d explain why you look like you just came in from a hurricane,” he replied teasingly to the Flash’s exasperated noise of frustration, pushing a hand through his hair to try and straighten it out.

“Hey, that’s no fair! Not all of us can look like we stepped out of a magazine, Mister ‘Highball’,” the other man shot back with a petulant tone, apparently giving up on his making hair sit properly.

Hal felt his eyes wrinkle as he smiled, something close to a legitimate feeling of affection settling somewhere in his sternum. Carol was absolutely going to make fun of him later.

“‘Hal’ is fine. That’s what everyone calls me.”

The Flash blinked those blue eyes of his, plainly curious. He reached over the table to offer his hand, and Hal looked at it, uncomprehending.

“I’m Barry,” Barry said, wiggling his hand to indicate it should be shaken. “If you tell me what your name is short for I’ll tell you mine.”

Hal reached over and took Barry’s hand, inhaling at the feeling of static crawling up his bones, the energy almost _pouring_ from the other, restrained only barely by flesh and bone and probably the fact Barry didn’t actually _want_ to electrocute him.

Sure, he wore one of the most powerful weapons in the universe on his finger, but Barry’s lightning felt… Raw, untamed. Addictive. Something in Hal’s chest wondered what it would be like to drink it from him.

“--Harold,” he offered after a barely-perceptible pause. “But ‘Hal’ is fine, seriously. Only my mother called me Harold.”

Barry inclined his chin in an understanding half-nod, retracting his hand. There was a softness in his eyes that Hal felt vaguely uncomfortable with.

“Bartholomew. My mom was the same way, but she only used it when I was in trouble.”

“Let me guess, staying up late on a school night?”

The speedster laughed, pouring himself some water and trying to cover his embarrassment with a sip. “The Star Trek reruns were always on late,” he admitted sheepishly, and Hal could have cried then and there.

It wasn’t _fair_ that this hero got to be so perfect.

 

* * *

 

So they got to talking, about everything from Star Trek to their jobs, to commenting on the food they ordered and Barry having to explain about his metabolism all the while ordering a second dessert and seemingly untouched by the wine he was drinking.

“Y’see, ‘cause I burn through things so quickly it’s pretty much impossible for me to get drunk, which sounds great, but really isn’t? Like I wish I could get drunk, but I’m always… ‘On’. Mentally. No way to tone it down if that made sense?”

Hal nodded and rested his chin on steepled fingers, happy just to let Barry talk in that exuberant, bright way of his, full of hand gesturing and earnest smiles that made his belly flutter. He was distantly aware that the night was starting to get on, and people that had arrived after him were already paying and leaving, and the waiters were starting to give them looks that probably indicated they were ready to start cleaning up.

“--And I said to them, ‘I swear this is only my second drink’ because I was _clearly_ not being affected by it and-- I’m-- Rambling, aren’t I. I-I’m sorry, I’m just… Excited about finally being able to tell someone about how weird it all is to be…” Barry drew a lightning bolt shape with his finger in the air, looking bashful as he did so.

Hal inclined his head in an understanding nod. “If you’re okay with it, we could go talk about it somewhere else?” It wasn’t the most subtle invitation, and it didn’t draw attention to itself. If Barry just wanted to talk, he would be more than happy to keep the conversation going. There was something inherently magnetic about the speedster, and the selfish part of Hal wanted to drown in his presence.

To his merit, Barry definitely seemed interested. He visibly perked up and his mouth parted, the cogs in his head clearly turning as he figured out an answer. The tips of his ears were turning pink, and Hal found that adorable.

“Your place, or mine?”

Hal had a brief mental image of the amount of takeout and dirty laundry and unfinished paperwork strewn across his apartment, and tried not to cringe.

“My place isn’t too pretty at the moment, and I think yours might be closer?”

Barry nodded and began to clean up, neatly stacking his dishes and seemingly frowning to himself as he did so. Hal tilted his head to the side.

“Hey, Barr, you alright? It doesn’t have to be anything if you don’t want it to be. We can just chill and watch Ghostbusters or something.” He didn’t want to pressure the other man into anything, and wasn’t about to sacrifice their friendship for his own greed.

The speedster glanced up and jolted, a smile spreading across his face bashfully. “Ah, no, it’s no problem! I was just… Thinking. I do too much of that, I know,” Barry said with a soft laugh, reaching over the table to pick up Hal’s plate and add it to the delicate stack he had built. “It’s just that I’ve… Never really been close with someone since the accident.”

“Never?” Hal couldn’t really believe that. Barry was certainly attractive man, and had charisma to spare.

Barry flushed even more, fingers absently playing with his bowtie. Nerd.

“Before? Yeah, since then I didn’t really want to… Out myself.”

Ah, that was a clever entendre, Hal admitted internally, nodding along and moving to pay the bill.

“Hey, as I said. I’m happy to see where it goes.”

Barry seemed to minutely relax at the reassurance, and offered Hal an earnest smile that verged on something… More.

“Then we’ll see how it goes,” he agreed after a moment with a nod.

 

* * *

 

This had gone far beyond what Carol had advised, and Hal was trying to resist the urge to excuse himself to the bathroom to go call her.

There were two primary problems with that idea at that moment in time, all of which were carefully interlinked with his current situation.

That situation being that he and Barry had returned to Barry’s apartment -- _“Sorry about the pizza boxes,” Barry had laughed, briefly disappearing in a gust of air and flash of light to zip around the cozy living room and clean up what was a mostly imperceptible mess_ \-- and Hal found himself challenging Barry to a silly drinking game involving Sharknado -- _“You take a drink when you see something dumb! Yeah it won’t affect you much but it’ll be fun!”_ \-- and somehow they found themselves in a Star Trek marathon, curled up on the plush couch together and giggling along with whatever silly plot of the week was going on.

Which brought them to their current state, watching some late night TV show while Barry leant against him, eyes beginning to droop and laughing quietly whenever the host cracked a good joke.

Hal wanted to run, to get away from this delicate intimacy, but he was trapped with a warm body pressed against his side, able to feel Barry’s smile against the curve of his chest. It was terrifying on an instinctual level, and he didn’t want Barry to be able to feel the monster living in his heart.

Beyond the physical entrapment, the secondary problem arose whenever he considered carefully removing himself and running to some safe, secluded space.

That being: He _liked_ being here, curled up with his friend, arm wrapped around his shoulder and enjoying his warmth and soft, terrible puns when the opportunity arose in regards to whatever was happening on-screen.

Barry shifted beside him, and Hal glanced down into big blue eyes, hazy with sleepiness but still attentive. Somehow, Hal’s hand had found its way into Barry’s hair, rubbing his fingers against his scalp.

“You okay?” Barry asked, just above the volume of the television, “Your heartbeat just jumped.”

Hal frowned, not understanding, before Barry continued.

“I, um-- Was listening. N-Not in a creepy way! Just… I find it comforting. Okay it’s a little creepy but you-- Don’t mind, right?” Barry was giving him a hopeful look, and Hal was close to short-circuiting.

He trailed his hand from Barry’s hair to tangle in the short strands at the base of his neck, thumb rubbing circles into a spot just behind his ear. Barry seemed to lean into the touch, mouth parting slightly.

“...Hey,” Barry mumbled after a second, eyes refocusing, “D’you mind if I… Um…” A steady spread of pink flush arose at the tips of his ears, and was rapidly migrating towards his cheeks.

Hal spoke without thinking, almost entranced.

“Can I kiss yo--”

Barry seemed to blink forwards, faster than Hal’s eyes could follow, and was pressed against him, lips and body and fingers tangling in his hair. Hal breathed in the taste of alcohol and clean ozone, letting his hands run down to hold Barry in place at his ribs, feeling the electricity buzz from beneath his clothing.

“I’ve been wanting to do that all night,” Barry said between kisses, smiling against Hal’s lips and gently insisting with his hands that he roll over properly onto his back.

Hal was… Maybe a bit more affected by the alcohol than he had originally thought, and allowed himself to be manipulated until Barry was neatly laying between his legs, kissing him senseless the whole time.

“H-Ha-h, eager, ain’t’cha Barr?” Hal mumbled with a laugh when the other moved down, kissing along his jaw and to his throat, clutching a hand at his blond hair as if to pretend he had any control of the situation.

Barry gave a muffled laugh against Hal’s collarbone.

“It’s not my fault you run around in thigh-high boots, right? And that suit-construct-thing doesn’t hide anything, Hal,” he said in a chiding fashion, returning to kissing him, this time slowly and deeply, but no less filthy.

He swore he could hear Carol laughing all the way from Coast City.

Things proceeded from there, with Barry sneaking hands that sparked with energy underneath Hal’s shirt to press against his abs, trapping his legs by slinging them over his hips.

There didn’t seem to be any prerogative to undress properly, and Hal was happy to keep kissing Barry while the other rolled his clothed hips and pressed deeply against him, sighing as they rubbed against one another.

Hal didn’t want to hurry, didn’t want to do much else other than bask in the warm intensity of Barry slowly fucking him into the couch, touching wherever possible and letting out quiet, soft gasps as his hips stuttered. Hal tried not to moan too loudly, because he didn’t want to break the delicate atmosphere their rutting had developed: Something sweet and secret and just for them, not for any nosy neighbours to overhear.

Barry nosed his cheek, falling to bite at the side of Hal’s throat as he shuddered, making a high-pitched noise in the back of his throat that Hal simply _adored_ \-- And then he reached down, and slid his hand into Hal’s pants, and Hal just about _shrieked_ when Barry started _vibrating_ and--

Hal saw _g o l d ._

 

 

* * *

 

 

“...awake yet? That’s okay, I’ll just-- Oh, hey,” came Barry’s warm tone through Hal’s sleepy haze as he struggled to open his eyes. “I hope you don’t mind, I, uh, got us cleaned up.”

That made Hal scowl, brain playing catch-up as he pulled together his senses until he could recognise the softness he lay on -- a bed, probably. And then the unfamiliar texture of his pants -- Barry had changed him into pajama pants, then.

“Mng,” Hal said eloquently, cracking open his eyes and squinting in the dim light of a bedside lamp. Barry was standing by the bed, changing into a set of pajamas and glancing over at him worriedly.

“Hey,” Barry said softly once he was sure Hal was awake, shifting to sit on the bed. Hal, in his hazy state, wanted to hold him. “I can sleep on the couch if you’d like. That seemed to, um, wipe you out a bit.” He smiled and flushed, averting his eyes. “I’ll take it as a compliment, though.”

Hal blinked lazily, and used his limited mental control to summon a simple construct of a hand, using it to peel back the blankets and tug on Barry’s pants. With a huff and a smile, the speedster obediently slid in beside him, wiggling to get comfortable.

“You… Okay, Hal?” Barry said his name like he was tasting it as he reached to flick off the lamp, enshrouding them both in darkness that even the predawn hadn’t begun to lighten. “You-- Um, finished, and then your ring seemed to freak out? There was this, like… Greenish light, that sparked from it? I didn’t… Hurt you, right?”

Hal’s heart hurt at the genuine worry in Barry’s voice, and reached out with his ring-hand to brush the his knuckles across the other’s cheeks. Barry seemed to shiver, and then leaned into the touch, eyes closing.

“I haven’t… Told you, about how I got my ring, have I.” He didn’t phrase it as a question, but instead an admission.

Barry nodded, slowly, opening his eyes. “Yeah. I get if it’s-- Upsetting, though. Took me a while to be able to tell people about the accident.”

In the darkness, Hal could only just barely see the faded lichtenberg figures crawling across Barry’s shoulder. He wondered if he would be able to feel the lightning flowing below those pale scars, and he vowed to kiss along their branching lines sometime in the future.

He started slowly. “I was out testing a new jet for some military-industrial company. It was gonna be a big deal for Carol and the company. It was all good, I was flying smooth as butter, and then a goddamned UFO took me out.”

Barry made an amused noise. “It just appeared? Don’t you have radars on those planes?”

Hal scoffed. “Hell yeah we do. The plane I was flying had state of the art tech, but the UFO wasn’t picked up on it. One moment I’m reporting there’s a weird light in the sky, next thing I know I’m bailing out of an exploding plane.”

“That sounds… Very action-movie.” Barry sounded vaguely incredulous, brows rising as he nodded for the other to continue.

“So I’m parachuting down and mourning my plane because it cost, like, two billion dollars -- literally -- when I see that the thing that hit me had crashed nearby. Big weird thing, looked like it was made out of solid green glass. I landed down there, easy peasy, go to investigate.”

It was hard, and the clenching of his throat made it even more difficult to to describe seeing the seething, formless shape of gold-green he was met with inside the ship, how it called out to him, _sung_ to him--

And how it pounced when he drove a knife into the closest thing he could find to a door, roiling and turning to bizarrely geometric fractal forms, seeping through the little crack in the construct-shell -- _“It was like a chrysalis,” Hal whispered_ \-- and crawled with insectile precision up Hal’s arm in the blink of an eye.

“And then it burrowed into me.”

“It _what?_ ”

“It-- Hang on.”

Hal reached over and drew Barry’s hand to his ribs, right above his heart. Undoubtedly Barry had seen the scar there when he had undressed Hal. He could feel the hesitation as Barry brushed over the sharp edges between healthy skin and glossy scar tissue.

“I-I thought it was--”

“Surgical? Yeah, I tell people that.” The outline was too fine to be any sort of natural injury, but the scar itself was large enough to be clear that _something_ traumatic had happened.

Barry’s fingers were warm against his ribs, and Hal moved to pull the other man in, who obliged with a soft huff.

“And now you have an alien parasite living in you?”

“Mm. Sorta. After it… Reached my bloodstream and nervous system I guess it… Became a part of me? Like how the lightning became a part of you.” Hal brushed his knuckles against the branching scarring tumbling down Barry’s belly, and the muscled abs beneath them trembled.

“T-Ticklish,” Barry said once he was done squirming, laying an easy arm over Hal’s side before continuing. “So then you… Decided to become a galactic superhero?”

Hal hid the jump in his heartbeat with a short laugh, rolling his eyes. “Not quite. It refused to tell me what it was at first, tried… Hiding from me in my own head. Real kind of ‘ _Dreamcatcher_ ’ situation, but without the shit-weasels.” Barry nodded. “A while after getting chewed out by Carol for crashing her two billion dollar baby, I sat down and was, like, ‘Buddy you’re going to have to pay rent and I’m gonna have to see your license’.”

Barry actually giggled at that, looking far too amused at whatever mental image he had concocted.

“So then it, like, just casually laid out to me that it was called ‘Parallax’ and was being hunted by these corrupt alien guys called ‘The Guardians of the Universe’, ‘cause it was ‘unnatural’. Sounded like they do a crap job of guarding the universe, I thought, so I asked, ‘Hey, you made that ship right?’ and it replied, ‘Yeah but I can’t give you that power unless blah blah blah’.”

A blond eyebrow rose.

“‘Blah blah blah’?”

Hal shrugged to avoid explaining how Parallax had given him the promises of power and the sing-song of control and dominance of the entire galaxy. He had a feeling Barry wouldn’t be too interested in those sorts of things.

“Mhm. And then it made me the Ring.” He held up his right hand, and let a little power surge through, lighting it up like the lamp on the bedside. Barry was cast in shades of green as he politely reached out and inspected it, running a fingertip across the emblem embellished on top.

“So that’s why they call you a ‘Lantern’, huh?” Hal let the power fade, returning to his explanation.

“So Parallax let me use it’s power to suit up and go out and kick some alien butt. Turns out the Guardians ruled these space cops called the ‘Green Lanterns’ who, guess what, weren’t doing that great a job guarding the universe. Plot twist, I know. So me and Parallax kicked their asses and said, ‘This isn’t the way you should be doing this’.”

Barry’s mouth opened, and then closed, and opened again. “So now you’re a space-cop.”

“Yup! Made my Ring official and everything. Lantern of Sector 2814.”

He didn’t mention that he was one of the few Lanterns left, of course. Not that a bare few had chosen to ally themselves with him as he cleaved open the sky to bring about his own will. Not that Sector 2814 was considered a cursed, barren stretch of space directly ruled over by a glittering green god and the troublesome humans were his chosen ones.

Hal didn’t think that was at all relevant.

“So about that… Weird sparking stuff?” Barry prodded him verbally, bringing him out of his thoughts, away from the taste of gold and glory on his tongue.

“Ah, right! So Parallax is sort of powered by emotions, right? When I make a construct or anything I have to try and channel those emotions, and sometimes when I have too many the Ring, um, overreacts a bit.”

“You were feeling… A lot of emotions?” The other man’s voice had become careful, as if he wasn’t sure what the answer was, and if it would be a good or bad one.

Hal nodded, feeling blood rush to his cheeks. He was glad that the darkness mostly concealed it, but Barry’s hand still brushed against his face tenderly.

“...Y-Yeah. I’ve got-- A lot of emotions. About you, specifically.” As if he needed to clarify that.

There was a pause, and he was having trouble reading Barry’s face in the long seconds before the other man replied a soft, “...Me too. I’ve got-- A lot of emotions too. About you. Specifically.”

 _What an idiot_ , Hal thought with as much affection as he could muster without immediately bursting into flame from sheer embarrassment.

Instead, he mumbled a sheepish “shut up” and scooted over to throw a leg over Barry’s hips and draw him into a kiss, just as deep as before but more… Chaste. There wasn’t any hurry in it, and Barry hummed into his mouth, something about calling him a dork, but it didn’t really matter.

What mattered right then and there was the warm body beside him and the leashed lightning thrumming underneath Barry’s skin that almost began to soothe the anxieties burning inside him.

They kissed and talked and laughed and kissed some more in the predawn light, chasing away the roiling, hissing fear inside his chest that whispered that _he’s lying and using you and i’m the best you could ever be and and and_

 _Shut up_ , Hal willed the voice. He rolled over, and felt Barry shuffle up behind him, wrapping an arm around his waist and entangling their legs, burying his nose into the nape of Hal’s neck.

It brought Hal equal amounts of surprise and shame when he realised this was the safest he had felt in a… Long time. No vengeful aliens coming after him, no rebellious planets to put down, not even the constant tug of the angry alien parasite living in his head.

Barry’s warmth behind him slowly relaxed as the man fell asleep, and Hal was only just able to see the beginning of dawn before he followed.

 

* * *

 

“Carol,” Hal said over breakfast, “I promise it’s not a problem.”

Carol managed not to give him a _too_ withering look.

“You just said you wanted to take him to Oa! The centre of the universe! That you rule over!”

Hal rubbed the back of his neck, averting his eyes. Carol didn’t let up.

“He’s a _superhero_! You can’t bring your twink superhero boyfriend to your galactic fortress!”

Hal bristled.

“He’s a twunk, actually.”


End file.
